Love in Adversity
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: Hermione pulled the child from the wreckage of the orphanage. Then she couldn't let go. (HC fill)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. This particular story deals with severe & willful neglect of a small child along with referencing a history of miscarriages. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** This piece was difficult to write, for many reasons. First and foremost of those reasons is the child abuse being portrayed here. As just a reminder, the series that this belongs to features a Harry/Hermione QPR, _not_ a romance.

 **Notice:** This story was previously published in a collection in which it did not belong. It is now being published as a standalone story with all competition-centric notes not in the Block removed.

 **Challenge/Competition Block** :  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : Themed  
 **Prompts** : Blaise Zabini/Hermione Granger  
 **Word Count** : 1870 (Story); 1892 (Story & Epigraph)

-= LP =-  
 **Love in Action**  
Love in Adversity  
-= LP =-  
"Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit."  
– Napoleon Hill  
-= LP =-

Hermione was gentle when she picked up the child from the wreckage. The child, barely more than a baby, still let out a whimper at the contact. Tiny hands clenched around the fabric of her blouse before immediately releasing, as if the toddler had already learned to let go of things before they could hurt. Hermione's heart clenched, but she stayed gentle as she tucked the child's body close to hers. The child went with the motion, compliant in terror. All these actions scream its wrongness, but Hermione knew that this would not be an easy trip, not for her heart and not when it was an orphanage ran by the likes of Umbridge. Being around children hurt when she could not have one of her own, but the idea of Teddy in Umbridge's hands had hurt more.

Her arms securely wrapped around the child, Hermione looked to the rim of the newly made crater that was once the facility of the home, searching for one person in particular. Harry's face was grim when she found it, but it lit up when their eyes met. A moment later, resignation settled over him as if he could feel how much the idea of letting the girl go was already hurting her. He would back whatever decision she made, and any argument they had would be only to ensure that she had her counters ready for those who would oppose her. If there was any benefit at all of fighting a war with someone, loyalty soaked in blood and pain would be it. In ways that many outsiders didn't understand, Harry was _hers_ , just as the child now was. The child snuffled before Hermine felt a nose pressing into her neck.

Harry managed to get them out of the pit and shuffled into the tent serving as an emergency hospital. Somehow both Hermione and the child had escaped the collapse of the children's home with only bruises to show for it. But the child stayed quiet for all the fuss. Every time someone would touch her skin-to-skin, a tiny whimper would escape but nothing else. The one time Hermione had let her go, she had lifted a hand towards her rescuer, fingers splayed and eyes wide. Then, without a sound, she curled the hand into a tiny fist and tucked it into her side and looked away.

No child should be that resigned to being without comfort, especially not that young.

Harry left her side without only a brush of his knuckles against the back of her hand. Hermione didn't bother with trying to figure out where he had gone as she took the girl's fist into her hands. Around them, the emergency hospital buzzed with activity despite the distinctively few survivors. They didn't matter to Hermione either—and while some distant part of her wondered why she wasn't rushing around making everything run as efficiently as possible like she would normally, the rest was focused upon the tiny being who had turned back to keep her eyes upon her. That gaze held so much fear and Hermione wanted nothing more than to soothe it all away. She settled on the cot beside the girl, determined to stay close as she tried to encourage the little one to rest.

Through it all, the child did not cry and that made Hermione's heart break a thousand times.

Who could do this to a child? Abandon them to the point that even if they lived and was physically healthy, they wouldn't act as a normal child would? Hermione had known it happened. She was best friends with Harry Potter. How could she not know that some people were cruel enough to ignore their charges? But after all the problems she had carrying her children, Hermione simply couldn't understand it. She had lost so many before she was able to hold them. Why would anyone deliberately ignore one who so clearly wanted to be held?

The hand on the back of her neck made her jump. A glance behind showed that the owner of the hand was Blaise. He stroked the skin along her hairline before twisting an escaped curl around one of his fingers. Something she hadn't known had tightened loosened within her. Relaxing into the touch of her husband as he sat behind her, Hermione allowed her own fingers to rub the little girl's wrist. Everything would work out, even if she was feeling out of sorts by this situation. Blaise always made sure that things worked out as best as they could and he was here now.

"Harry said they're looking for her records," Blaise whispered, "but it doesn't look like there will be much. Beyond the explosion that destroyed the building in the first place, the records were kept fairly anonymous. It looks like the children weren't even given names."

"Which means that magic won't show their existence," Hermione replied. Blaise pressed his cheek against her hair before nodding. Her throat clogged from the tears she couldn't bring herself to cry. Knowing her better than anyone save Harry, Blaise wrapped her in his arms. He took care not to dislodge her gentle hold on the girl who was still silently watching. "No one would be looking for them if they hadn't taken Teddy, would they? Oh, no, _Teddy_ —"

"Harry's got him," Blaise interrupted. He rubbed a hand over her stomach. "The little scamp had escaped before the raid even started. Not long before, mind, but long enough that he was safely away before the ploy was found out." He sounded disapproving, which she knew she deserved for not warning him ahead of time. As an Unspeakable, her primary focus was research and she only rarely helped out the Auror Department. If this case had involved any other werewolf-born child than Teddy, she would not have been involved, let alone as the person doing the initial infiltration. Blaise pressed a kiss to her temple before continuing his lecture. "You know I understand, my love. I may not like it, but I did know what kind of woman I had stolen when I married you."

"I really wish you wouldn't refer to it as _stealing_ like I'm—"

"—an object instead of a person," Blaise finished the common argument. He kissed her temple again as he pressed against her back. "Never doubt that I see you as a person, Hermione Jane Granger. I love every bit of you—the strength you demonstrate in your gentleness, the defiance you showed when you refused to take my family name, the brilliance that has revolutionized our corner of the world, and yes, even the utter recklessness that has you jumping into danger like every other foolish Gryffindor. It was my best scheme ever when I seduced you away—"

"Oh, you're being ridiculous," Hermione groused, despite the smile twitching her lips. "Ron and I had been broken up for at least three months before our paths crossed after the war—and as I recall, I was the one to ask you out."

"All a part of my brilliant plan," he boasted as he always did.

The rhythm of the argument was as comforting as a mantra, as soothing to her nerves as the feel of his magic surrounding her. Falling in love with Blaise had been simple and easy, without the volatility of her relationship with Ron. Blaise painted it as something deliberate, but she knew he had been caught just as much off guard as she had been. Even if their relationship had started as some elaborate plot, no one would have blamed him for leaving after the healers had declared that she wouldn't be able to give him an heir. Well, Harry would have, but over the years, Hermione had figured out that Harry had different priorities than those in the Wizarding World. Hermione had no doubt that Harry would always side with her, just as she was certain that Blaise loved her as much as she loved him.

"My grandmother's name was Isolde," Blaise mentioned after several minutes of silence. "She was my mother's mother, so it fit." Hermione understood that it was a reference to his grandmother's paleness opposed to his own dark complexion. With her free hand, she rubbed the arm around her waist. "I think even muggles know the story, but there was once a witch who loved so fiercely that even tragedy couldn't stop her. When her lover died, their combined magic transformed them into intertwined rose brambles which refused to wither even in the depths of winter."

"Blaise?" Hermione scarcely dared to breathe more than his name. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, as she attempted to catch a glimpse of his face despite the awkward angle. She didn't want to hope that he meant what she thought—couldn't bear it if she did and turned out to be wrong. All she could tell was that he was looking at the little one laying before them.

"It's a good name," he murmured. "It would fit her just as much as it fit my grandmother. Beauty that did not wither even in the greatest of adversities because of a love that would not die or fade. Having a family name should make up for the lack of blood connection."

"You'll let me keep her?" Hermione dared to ask. There was so many traditions that she had to deal with living amongst the magical community. Even as she clung to every scrap of her independence and individuality, she had known that marrying a pureblood of a noble house meant letting him make certain choices, because he had certain duties to his family. They had never discussed adoption but the research she had done on her own had shown her that it would have been unlikely given the social constraints. There were too much emphasis placed upon the possession of magic and orphans tended to immediately go to their closest family.

"Oh, my love," Blaise said with a huff of breath, "how could I even think of refusing you _anything_ , let alone this? Even Harry saw that she was yours—he said as much when he let me know where you were and that you wouldn't be leaving her side unless forced."

"And you aren't going to force me?"

"I know my limits," he admitted easily. "No one forces Hermione Granger to do anything, especially when there's someone who needs her help. I told you: I knew what kind of woman I was marrying."

"I wanted to give you a child, so very much." She breathed the words, but they still sounded loud in the quiet of the tent. Her eyes burned with tears. It was one of her greatest failures and every time she lost another one, her soul cracked just a bit more. Yet she couldn't bring herself to stop trying. Blaise tightened his arms around her.

"Don't you see, my love?" he asked as he brushed his knuckles against the toddler's wrist just above Hermione's fingers. The child gave a little whimper, same as when Hermione had picked her up. Blaise's words made the wounds in Hermione's heart begin to smooth over. "You already have."

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-


End file.
